


Night Club Ficlet

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, night club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:17:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A request for Dean and Castiel being dragged to a night club by Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Club Ficlet

Dean shouldn’t have let Sam talk him into coming to this stupid place.

Under normal circumstances, he’d hate going to night clubs. Hell, if he wasn’t a hunter, he’d hate going to night clubs. Dean just doesn’t like the whole bump-and-grind atmosphere; that was something he  _used_ to like when he was an idiot kid.

The only reason he had tagged along with Sam’s ridiculous plan was because Cas seemed interested in it. His eyes lit up when Sam told him it was a ‘valuable human experience’ and he immediately jumped onto the bandwagon. So, in order to keep track of Cas and make sure he doesn’t get hurt, Dean agreed to go.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Shut up, Sammy.”

And so they went. And now Dean finds himself sitting at the bar beside from his brother and some girl he’d picked up, watching as Cas fidgets against the girl who’s grinding up on him so hard they might as well be dry humping.

Dean looks away. It’s not that he’s jealous or anything, he just doesn’t enjoy watching his friend basically fuck people that aren’t preapproved of by him. Dean would rather Cas experience the less… shady aspects of humanity.

Nonetheless, Dean orders more bourbon. The bartender winks at him before walking away, swiveling his hips as he does so. God, he just wants to go home and fucking drink, not go home and fuck a guy that makes drinks. He sighs and rubs his fingertips into his temple, wincing as the loud turbo bass music beats from the floor length speakers.

The bartender brings him his drink and he swallows it in one go. The burning liquor is oddly pleasant in the harsh atmosphere. Dean slaps the cheap shot glass back onto the glass counter and beckons the bartender over with a finger.

After a moment, he wanders over and crosses his arms over the counter, leaning into Dean’s personal space.

“What can I do for ya’, green eyes?”

Dean puts on his best bedroom eyes and reaches into his pocket for the fiver he knows he brought along. Then, just as slowly, he brings his hand back up to the guy’s shirt pocket.

“This one’s for you, big boy.”

He pushes away from the bar and makes his way onto the dance floor, well aware of the bartender’s eyes following after him, and probably Sammy’s as well. Dean shuffles through the throngs of people, elbowing people who grind up against him until the part way for him in a discordant path to Cas. He beelines to his friend, weaving as a starved man for food, and landing just behind him.

“Cas!” Dean shouts over the blaring raucousness of the ‘music’.

Cas turns and gapes at Dean like a deer caught in headlights and backs away from the woman. When she notices the lack of contact, she turns and glares at the two of them, offering them both her own little two fingered salute before slithering to the next moderately attractive stranger’s groin.

Cas’s lips move with his words but Dean can’t hear him. So, in a totally platonic way, Dean pulls Cas flush against his body and settles his face near his friend’s.

“What was that?”

“What are you doing?” Castiel repeats, a slight tremor now evident in his hands. Dean pulls away minutely, checking Cas for any signs of duress. When Cas notices the movement, his eyes shoot to the floor and, though the lighting is bad, Dean thinks he blushes.

“Come with me.”

Dean reaches down and wraps an arm around Cas’s waist, pulling him in close as he leads the two of them to the booths on the edge of the massive room. He slides into the booth, scooting until his back touches the outer wall, and pulls Cas in close.

“Dean, what-”

“Just get over here,” Dean mumbles as he wraps his arms around Cas’s neck. He pulls himself to Cas’s lips and tentatively lets his own come into contact with them. When he does, Cas’s arms wind around his body and knot into his hair, pulling slightly as he opens himself up.

Soon enough, easy kisses escalate to hasty, open-mouthed smooches, escalates to full on frenching as Dean’s back hits the seat of the booth. Castiel takes his place between Dean’s legs and meets his tongue with earnest. His hips jerk marginally, brushing a  _very_ prominent hard on against Dean’s own fully awake cock.

And, in heat of the moment, Dean’s hands drops from Cas’s shoulders down to his hips, gripping them tightly and thrusting up against Cas. The fallen angel moans and bucks back, effectively breaking the kiss as his breath heaves against Dean’s cheek.

A few minutes of, well, of dry humping, Dean begins to sober up. As he sobers up, he notices things about Castiel. The first being that his friend hasn’t had an ounce of alcohol all night. The second being that Cas is openly  _fucking_ against him, as though it was something he’d been holding back for a while. And that scares the hell out of Dean.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean whispers, his voice still caught between a moan and a wheeze.

“… yes… Dean?” Cas replies, stopping when he detects Dean’s lack of return on his thrusts.

“I, uh… Is this all right?”

Cas pulls away and stares at him. Those beautiful blue eyes, normally so lucid and aware, are blown black with blatant arousal. Dean swallows and feels another wave of pleasure in his cock, completely against his permission.

“Of course this is all right. Is there something wrong?”

“No…no,” Dean replies, keeping his tone as cautious as he can before he makes his next suggestion. “I, um, would you like to, uh, go back to the bunker?”

Dean avoids Cas’s gaze as he awaits his answer. Not that he cares, of course. Cas is his best friend; if he wants to fuck Dean so be it. It’s not like he has feeling for the guy or any of that chick-flick shit.

Apparently, his worries (however buried) are unfounded as Cas beckons his face up with a finger below his chin. He presses his lips against Dean’s in a gentle, albeit firm, kiss. When he pulls away, he smiles.

“I would love to.”


End file.
